


Nights

by Kitty_KatAllie



Series: What's It Like [19]
Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, FWP, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prosopagnosia, fluff and schmoop and wooooow so much of those, fluff without plot tag has returned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:55:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie
Summary: His hands were small as they reached out and brushed uselessly over coats and pants and dresses.





	Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Who has the most nightmares? How do they comfort each other when one of them is scared?

The sidewalks were so crowded, his shoulders bumped everyone he tried to pass. The air was humid and heavy with the weight of breaths and so much humanity. More were coming, filling up every empty space, until he couldn’t walk forward at all. Stuck in place even as he tried to press through, but his prodigious strength was failing him in a way it hadn’t _off_ field in years. He shoved and pushed with his shoulders and arms, and finally even using his hands to _heave_ the people around him away, but they only wobbled and fell right back into place. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but suddenly everyone was towering over him.

His hands were small as they reached out and brushed uselessly over coats and pants and dresses.

The scent of perfume, strong enough to make his head ache and his nose sting, lingered on the air around him. Was it the smell that made everything hazy? The sunlight and the open air was gone, and the cement beneath his feet was suddenly pale marble tile that clacked and clicked under the heels of everyone around him. His mother’s shoes made that sound- _click-clack, click-clack_ \- and she wore sweet, expensive perfume that smelled like flowers. But the perfume was too heavy, too thick and cloying, and there were so many shoes on tiles _click-clacking_ and ringing in his ears.

It overwhelmed him. The stinging in his nose wasn’t just from perfume. Instead, it matched the burning in his eyes that turned to liquid building on his lashes.

He searched the crowd, looking towards the faces looming above him.

But none were her. Maybe? What did she look like? She looked like him, everyone said so, but what did _he_ look like?

He stood in the middle of the faceless masses, everyone _click-clacking_ and perfume burning his throat and nose, and he couldn’t remember how to breathe. His chest pulled too tight, his hands numb, and his mouth gaped open wide, pulling in air- in, in, _in_ \- but it trapped in his throat. Where was his mother? Where was she? What did she look like? Where did she go!?

 _Seijuuro? Sei? C’mon, Sei, it’s okay_.

Shin covered his face with his hands and his whole body shook. He didn’t know that voice. Where was his mother? Why couldn’t he remember her face! Why couldn’t he see anyone’s faces!

 _It’s okay, Sei. C’mon, wake up, Sei. Seijuuro, wake up_.

 

His eyes opened and the darkness behind his hands suddenly became the natural darkness of night. Of shadows on the ceiling. Hands were braced on his arm, grip tight and shaking, and, slowly, aching in a way Shin wasn’t used to, he turned to see a young man braced on his elbow and gazing down at Shin with too wide, too worried dark eyes.

He was unfamiliar. A face and large brown eyes he could swear he’d never seen before. But his hands were warm and kind, if tight, and his concern real. Shin’s eyes travelled down the length of his neck, over the broad curve of his shoulder, and the thin, white t-shirt that was stretched and misshapen and dingy from too many washings. He remembered the outline of that slender, but strong body. He remembered the shape and feel of those hands that now cupped his face, thumbs brushing the high arch of his cheekbones.

“Sena,” Shin said softly, eyes shuttering closed, his hands coming up to wrap around Sena’s wrists.

“Yeah, hey. That was a bad one, ne?” Sena noted, keeping his voice just as soft and even more gentle.

Shin’s mouth tightened as he nodded slightly. The bed shifted and Sena’s hands moved away. Shin blinked his eyes open to see Sena shuffled up against the headboard and laying out his legs. His cheeks flushed pink as he patted his legs and Shin stared a moment longer. At the small nose and kind mouth and dark eyes with their fan of lashes that should mean so much more than they did. But he closed his eyes and shuffled closer, to press his face to Sena’s thighs, breathing in the familiar scent of his laundry detergent and skin, feeling the familiar touch of his callused, smaller hands tracing Shin’s jawline and combing through his sweaty, black hair.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Sena asked quietly, neither pushing nor condemning. Just an opening to take or discard.

“I used to… have nightmares. I haven’t had it since before we met,” Shin admitted, open eyes staring at the bump in the blankets where Sena’s bare feet were hidden.

“You mean, not since high school? Or before?” Sena clarified. Shin nodded. Sena’s hand paused, then continued the careful, soothing petting. “What happens in the nightmare?”

“I’m lost and I can’t find my mother. I can’t remember what she looks like and everyone’s a stranger. I can still smell it…” Shin shuddered lightly and Sena’s hand not in his hair squeezed Shin’s shoulder.

“Smell what?”

“We were at a mall. I can still smell the perfume they sold that day. It used to be my mother’s favorite.”

“Used to?”

“She stopped wearing it after that.”

Sena hummed softly, but didn’t push for more. Maybe he understood with just that. Sena wasn’t always the most observant, he wasn’t much of a tactician, nor did he possess a great deal of (if any) cunning. But he could be wise in other ways, ways that Shin was not. He could understand the pain of others so well, so easily. His last few years in college courses geared towards rehabilitation and recovery had only encouraged that empathy in him. He wasn’t that terrified high schooler anymore, but his touch was still soft on Shin’s arm and through his hair.

“When you leave the room, I don’t always notice when you return. In public, I have to notice what you’re wearing, because I can’t always make out your body in the crowd, or you’ll move differently than I’m expecting and I won’t be able to see you.”

Sena’s hands stilled and Shin’s fingers twisted into the sheets next to Sena’s leg.

“When I wake up, I have to remind myself it’s you next to me. Tonight, that dream came back, of all those faceless strangers, and I remembering feeling scared…” Shin's throat clicked, dry and taut as Sena’s inhaled sharply. “I woke up and you were just one more stranger.”

“Seijuuro, it’s okay,” Sena whispered, curling over and low. His knees drew up slightly and Shin felt himself shift a little at the movement. But Sena’s arm wrapped around Shin’s shoulders and his forehead pressed to Shin’s temple. “Everyone’s allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to be weak. Especially with me. However long you need, I’ll wait until you remember it’s me."

Shin pressed his face against Sena’s thighs and lifted an arm to lay over Sena’s around his chest.

“I know you will.”

His lips curving into a tremulous smile that Shin could feel shaking against his cheek. “You said once that you knew the important things about me, things like my character and choices, and that not knowing things like what my parents did for a living and my favorite color _weren’t_ the important parts of who I am,” Sena murmured after a few heartbeats' worth of silence. “Remembering my face isn’t as important as you remembering _me_. The good and the bad and the weak and the strong parts of me, you know all of them and that you love all those things… that’s so much more important to me than anything else.”

Shin nodded once, ignoring the burning, scratchy feeling in his throat and nose. “I… I apologize for waking you,” he muttered at last. Sena shook his head lightly, just enough for his mouth and nose to rub against the crown of Shin’s head.

“Don’t be. I’ll always be here for you.”

Shin’s hand wrapped around Sena’s and squeezed tightly.

“Not always.”

He felt Sena stiffen. And both of them remembered what had been going on the past few weeks. Meetings. Contracts and signings and interviews with sports' magazines.

Shin Seijuuro, the first ever Japanese player to be drafted into the NFL for an _in-season_ contract. The fact that several players in Saikyoudai were also in talks didn’t change the fact that Shin had been approached and signed first. To a Super Bowl winning team.

“Is that what brought the nightmare back, you think?” Sena asked as he slowly sat up. Shin followed suit, even though it meant Sena’s arm and hand fell away. They sat side-by-side, leaning against the headboard. Shin dropped his head back and stared up at the ceiling.

“A catalyst, you mean?” Shin replied questioningly. Sena nodded, then slumped over to lay his head against Shin’s shoulder, shuffling closer. Shin automatically raised his arm and pulled him as close as possible. Relieved at the physical closeness returning. Grounding him. “Perhaps. I’m no psychologist.”

Sena chuckled under his breath. “I guess not.”

Silence dragged on, long enough that Shins’ eyes grew heavy with weariness. Too tired to do more than barely think about being anxious at the idea of falling asleep again. He blinked out of his doze as Sena twisted abruptly, rising on his knees to meet Shin’s bleary gaze. He was much too awake for this hour of the night, but Shin supposed he only had himself to blame. It took longer in Shin’s grogginess to note the tightness in Sena’s jaw, the fierce determination in his wide, dark eyes.

“I can’t… _we_ can’t fix this problem with talking it out or finding some sort of compromise. You’re going to leave and maybe we’ll be able to see each other during that year, but maybe not. It’s gonna be hard. There’s no way to cure your face-blindness, either, and you’re gonna forget what I look like and I won’t be _there_ to help, and even my pictures won’t solve it,” Sena stated, voice firm and ringing through the night’s stillness.

Shin’s eyebrows rose, expression wry. “I know that.”

Sena shook his head, blushing faintly now, trembling heads rising to brace on Shin’s shoulders. “That’s not… I just mean, it’s going to suck. Really bad. But it’s not gonna be forever. We’re gonna make it through and I’ll only be a phone call away whenever you need me.”

Shin scowled at the promise, feeling its weight too soon. “That’s an impossible promise. Time zones alone-”

“I’m a phone call away,” Sena repeated sternly, frowning back just as stubbornly. “And until you go, I’m right here. As long and as often as you need me, got it?”

Shin huffed softly and gently placed his open palm to Sena’s flushed cheek.

“And you call me the romantic one?”

Sena’s face flamed red and his head ducked. “I love you, too,” he muttered through a slight pout on his mouth.

“I love you, Kobayakawa Sena. I’ve believed in you this long. I won’t stop now.”

Sena’s head jerked up, astonishment writ clear across his features. Then, he laughed on a stilted breath, his brows tight and face pressing into Shin’s hand. His hands on Shin’s shoulders moved until he was embracing him again, torso pressed against Shin’s, and hands now buried in Shin’s still slightly damp hair. They gradually, naturally, shifted to lie down, one of Sena’s legs thrown over Shin’s hips, his arms still holding Shin close and his breath warm against Shin’s ear.

“Whenever you wake up, it’ll be okay.”

Shin had a feeling he wouldn’t be waking from a nightmare again tonight, though. His arms snaked around Sena’s waist and he pressed his face to Sena’s throat. His pulse was steady and slow, fingers combing haltingly and gently through silky, black hair, lulling Shin into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> It's 3 am but gosh damn it, I'mma post this chapter.
> 
> Shit basic research has told me this:
> 
> 1\. People can smell in dreams. It's rare, but can happen. Since Shin relies more on scent for memories than sight, thanks to a certain condition, it makes sense that he'd sometimes dream with smell.
> 
> 2\. There have only been two Japanese players in NFL. Both only played in the off-season, during training. Both were signed to big NFL teams, but were dropped before the regular seasons began. One played in the short-lived UFL. Neither, and no one yet, has been drafted directly from Japan into an NFL team to play a regular season as a regular player. But this is fucking Inagaki/Murata's nonsense world of miracles and OP characters, soooooooooo.


End file.
